


You Gotta Try a Little Harder

by thought



Category: Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Finale spoilers, Gen, a fix-it of sorts; just probably not the one you're looking for
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-28
Updated: 2017-12-28
Packaged: 2019-02-22 23:53:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13177905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thought/pseuds/thought
Summary: "Can we... go back," Maxwell says, carefully, "to the part where I'm an alien?"





	You Gotta Try a Little Harder

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a prompt on tumblr from theimpossumblepossum for the SI-5 and "this is why we can't have nice things"

"So," Jacobi says, cheerfully, "Long story actually fucking short, Lovelace is an alien clone, you're probably an alien clone, I'm *not* an alien clone, go me, and surprising absolutely nobody, upper management is trying to fucking murder us."

"Can we... go back," Maxwell says, carefully, "to the part where I'm an alien?"

"I'd rather not," Jacobi says, and then he wheezes for a minute as Riemann punches him in the fucking throat.

"Do you... want a hand with that?" she asks, nodding towards the larger man.

"I mean, in your own time," Jacobi says, kicking Riemann in the kneecap and almost over-balancing.

"You know," Riemann growls, "Rachel always said Kepler's puppies were like cockroaches, but this is taking it a bit far." He swings a fist at Jacobi's head, which he dodges mostly by virtue of strategically collapsing. He catches himself on his hands, metal grating scraping the skin of his palms.

"Oh," Maxwell says. "He's a friend of Rachel's. This explains so much."

"It actually doesn't," Jacobi says, resignedly. "There's a lot you need to catch up on. Just... well. You trust me?"

"Always," she says, before he's even finished asking. Riemann stomps a booted foot down where Jacobi's fingers had been about two milliseconds previous.

"Yeah." Jacobi feels something tighten in his chest. He's either having an emotion or his lung is collapsing, he's giving it about 50/50 odds. "Sitrep: we can trust Lovelace. Eiffel, too, as weird as that sounds. Not that that's relevant anymore. I won't ask you to trust Minkowski. Obviously. And..." he swallows something that's probably blood. "The Colonel isn't on our side in this one, Alana."

Maxwell exhales, leans even harder against the wall. "Ok," she says. "Ok. Ok, that's...ok. I mean, we knew it had to happen eventually."

Jacobi tries to kick Riemann's legs out from under him and fails. "Did we?!" he demands. "No we fucking did not, Maxwell!" He's feeling suddenly lightheaded, and then he's feeling something snapping in his torso and a numb dissociation and oh hey, that's... the floor, suddenly farther away, and Riemann's face close to his and ok, seriously, what is it with this asshole and throwing Jacobi up against walls? He knees Riemann in the kidneys and as soon as he falls back Jacobi slides down the wall into a sad puddle. "We trusted the Colonel with our lives!" he snaps, and then coughs for what feels like an hour but is really only a few seconds.

"God, I'm sorry, are you having a crisis about this?"

"You missed it, don't worry," he says sharply, then immediately wants to throw up.

"Where is Hera?" she asks, of course.

"She's here. For now. I'll let you two work your own shit out."

"Jee, thanks."

Riemann slams his knee down on Jacobi's stomach, hands coming down on either side of his head. "Alana..." Jacobi says.

"Yes, yes, I'm... an alien now, apparently, and missing months of my life, but yes, I'll come beat up the bully for you."

"Great," he says. She gets half way across the room before the whole ship lurches violently, sending all of them skidding across the decking and slamming them into the wall. Jacobi uses the opportunity to get the hell away from Riemann.

"Something else you want to tell me?" Maxwell demands.

"We're gonna blow up the engine and probably send the ship into the star," Jacobi says. "But that's... not what that was. I don't actually know what that was."

Maxwell groans. "Great. Great. This is why we can't have nice things."

"Wait," says Riemann. "What do you mean blow up the--" Maxwell slams a broken piece of pipe into his head, and he stumbles to his knees. Maxwell glances down at the pipe like it's the first time she's seeing it.

"Huh. I... didn't actually expect that to work. How do you know if you're in shock? This has never happened to me before."

"Finish it," Jacobi says sharply, coughing and watching as red splatters the deck plating in front of him. "We can't let him tell Cutter."

"Do you really think--" Riemann starts, but Maxwell swings the pipe again with both hands and he lands on the floor, limp.

"Ok!" she says. "Happy?"

"Ecstatic," he says, and allows himself to curl up on the floor, back pressed to the wall, just for thirty seconds. They have the time. Maxwell crouches down to check that Riemann's actually dead, then knee-walks over to Jacobi.

She reaches out a hand, tips his chin up. She feels the same as she always has. cold hands, just like him. She even smells like he remembers, that faint sent of peppermint and plastic. When she looks into his eyes, checking for concussion, her gaze is so familiar it makes something hard and hot swell up in the back of his throat, and his eyes blur with tears. He doesn't know how to process this. Not after everything.

"You look terrible," she tells him. "But only a little concussed, congratulations."

"Yeah," he says. "That's kind of been... a running theme these last few weeks. Last few months, really. Looking terrible. Remind me to show you my handcuffs."

"Well," she says. "I look forward to hearing all about it. In explicit detail. Especially the alien parts. And the Kepler parts. Can you write those parts down, actually? Not the handcuff parts, especially if they involve Kepler."

"I' gonna hug you," he tells her. "For twenty seconds. And then we need to leave so my explosives can go off in peace. Minkowski and Lovelace should be done their part."

"Minkowski," she says, and he kind of half falls towards her, half drags her against him.

"Yeah," he says. "I know. I know. Fuck, Alana. But we have to get out of here and she's on the side that wants us all to survive this."

He presses his face against her neck and she wraps her arms around his shoulders and squeezes hard, harder than Kepler ever did, hard like he never thought he'd feel again.

They stay like that for eighteen seconds, then he pulls away. "Ok," he says.

"Unhealthy compartmentalization time?"

"Our favourite time!"

They get up, Jacobi ignoring the way his ribs crackle with an effort. Together, they head towards the door. Time to complete the mission. It's what they do. It's what they're good at.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me have this


End file.
